If I had to eat one meal for the rest of my life, it might just be chillie paneer and naan from Mama Swagat. I just got to McMoody's, our favorite internet/American junk food/ meeting place in Arusha after an impromptu lunch of the best Indian food I've ever had. Ever.

There are about a thousand things that merit a blog entry, but I have little time and they have little relation. So welcome to blog jambalaya!

*My host family is incredible. We live with a mama (clearly the head of the household) who is probably in her late fifties and is one of the most vocal Catholics I've ever met. The living room, the first when entering the house, is overwhelming with imagery: a lifesize Jesus poster, a calendar of the Pope, and a visible burdened Mary are the most obvious. Despite this, my mama is also a lush. She owns "Frigo Bar" five minutes from our house and downs a king-sized glass of Coke and Konyagi on a nightly basis. ("Konyagi - the Spirit of the Nation," btw.) In the morning, we have a stoic mama who demands a respectful "shikamoo" greeting and our agenda for the day. Now that I think of it, we also have a mama who makes strong ginger tea(tangawizi!) in the morning for us all. We've come to believe it's a hangover remedy. When she comes home from the bar at night (where she doesn't serve, but rather drinks with the locals), she communicates mostly in satisfied grunts and "wow"s, all the while calling me Madonna (maybe she means "my daughter?). The TV is usually on for the news, but if a music video comes on, we're all expected to dance while mama exclaims "Tanzania music!" and "Wow!" as she makes the smallest of movements. Only a life impression could do this justice - other volunteers ask for it on a regular basis. We usually then watch her "film," the cheesy "Secreto de Amor," which hails from the Phillipines, as mama passes out on the couch.

Baba is jolly and mostly absent. A retired military officer, he owns multiple transport enterprises and has been traversing the country for most of our stay. When he is here, he is welcoming and also likes his Konyagi.

The only daughter of their youngest son lives with mama and baba so she can attend school nearby. Ima, Imaculata, or Irene (whichever name she prefers on a certain day, really) is seven and a half, learning English, and a punk. During our first encounter with her, she sidled up next to me and stole my hardboiled egg and demanded I peel it for her. She often sneaks into our room to take inventory of our goodies and later whines for an SIC "maka pen" to color with. We attribute most brattiness to her lack of playmates. Outside of school, she spends most of her time following Janet, the live-in housekeeper.

Janet is the most stable person in our household. In her late twenties, she does everything in the house. She is also a fabulous cook - something I am very grateful for, considering some of my friends' situations.

*"I'm a rasta." - The easiest answer to the common "Why don't you eat meat?" question.

*Our Tanzanian teaching partners translate everything we say into euphemisms. My favorite is the anus: "the hole of the big need."

*I shelled peas and de-kerneled corn with my fam until my "soft fingers" blistered.

*I can once again pee anywhere. The worst choos are badges of honor.

*We see Maasai in traditional attire - necks laden with beads, bodies wrapped in red cloth, shaved heads, everywhere. There is a sacred tree in our village where the Maasai women worship their gods.

*My friend Craig, who lives in Olosiva with me, is super diligent and already has put all of his videos online. There should be one of us at an orphanage holding Mark, the tiniest little boy, soon. http://youtube.com/craigmcf

:)